“Very good, very good.” The count shot Matt a keen glance. “You had best be as amusing for the king as you were for me, fellow.”
“I shall do my best, my lord.” Matt bowed, managing to keep a straight face-if the count knew that Matt technically ranked him, he would have had to push his jaw shut. Of course, if the count knew that this minstrel had been born at a station lower than his own, he would have had apoplexy. Matt entertained a brief vision of the count having apoplexy with an open jaw, then put it resolutely behind him as his new “master” brought him up to stand before the dais. The count bowed, and Matt followed suit. “Your Majesty!” the count cried. “May I present the minstrel of whom I spoke!”
A ripple of interest passed through the ranks of the crowd of courtiers-anything to break the boredom, Matt decided. If he was amusing, all well and good. If he wasn’t, they’d have fun watching him be flogged. But when he looked up at King Boncorro, he had difficulty believing this handsome young man would flog a minstrel just for poor singing. The bilious, scrawny old man standing behind him-well, he looked ready to flog Matt right now-but the king himself was in his mid-twenties, about ten years younger than Matt himself. His face was open and seemed guileless, his blue eyes frank and honest, his nose straight and his chin firm without being too large. He looked like a real nice guy, all-American and addicted to Mom’s apple pie. Of course, Matt reminded himself, these people didn’t know about America-for all he knew, it might not be there; he hadn’t gotten around to looking yet-and probably didn’t know about apple pie, either. If Boncorro was really skilled at deception, one of the first things he would have learned was to look honest and guileless. Matt decided to withhold judgment, but couldn’t help liking the kid anyway-which, no doubt, was just what Boncorro intended. “A minstrel, are you?” the young king asked. “Can you sing?”
“No, Majesty,” Matt said honestly, “but my lute can, and my mouth says the words.”
The crowd emitted a noise that sounded as if they weren’t sure whether or not to laugh. Boncorro decided the issue for them by giving a chuckle. “Not only a minstrel, but a jester, too! What songs can you sing, then?”
‘I can sing you of my trade, Majesty.“
“To sing of singing?” Boncorro’s smile firmed with amusement. “Well, then, let us hear it!”
Matt sang “I’ve Jibe and Joke” again. The crowd went silent at first line and stayed that way so thoroughly that Matt knew were charmed-literally. Boncorro listened closely, too, with agreeable smile, but with a guarded look that told Matt that the king knew well and truly that he was being subjected to a spell, that it didn’t bother him. He was that sure of his own power dispel the charm, if he thought it necessary. Matt’s blood ran cold at the thought of that kind of power in one so young. Of course, Boncorro could have been wrong-he might not have proven as powerful as he thought… Then again, he might. When he finished, the crowd applauded, and Boncorro nodded approval. “Not bad, not bad at all-and your voice is far better than you led me to believe.”
“Well, yes,” Matt conceded. “I’m just not too good at hitting the right pitch, your Majesty, that’s all.”
The king smiled. “Well, your words were so fascinating that we did not concern ourselves with it. What is this ‘wisdom of the East’ of which you speak?”
Matt was curious. “Is your Majesty not more concerned with what thoughts a minstrel would consider to be the wisdom of the West?”
“No,” the king said, with absolute conviction. “I know what we of the Western world consider to be wisdom-it is religion, and I’ll have none of it, or the magic of Evil, and I’ll have none of that, either.”
The old man standing behind the throne looked very upset at that. Somehow, Matt didn’t think he was the religious type. “Why, just as your Majesty says.” Matt was taken aback by the young man’s intensity-but then, he had known other people who had rejected religion with an almost religious fervor. “Maybe you would prefer the wisdom of the East.”
“What is it, then?”
The old geezer behind the throne was watching Matt very narrowly. Matt mustered his wits, trying to oversimplify drastically-not too hard, considering how little he knew. “Broadly speaking, there are three kinds-but the one of them is so like that of the West that I think you would find it of little interest; it has to deal with who should take orders from whom, and how to keep things orderly in a kingdom.”
“You are right,” the king said impatiently, “I know enough of that already. And the other two?”
“The one teaches that all life is more suffering than joy, and that the main goal in living is to be able to escape life.”
Boncorro frowned. “Why, a naked blade can accomplish that soon enough!”
“Only if death lets you stop existing,” Matt pointed out, “with-out going to Hell.”
Boncorro became totally still. “I think I do wish to learn this wisdom. How can one cease to exist when one is dead?”
“Only with great difficulty,” Matt said, “for this wisdom teaches that unless you have lived the life of a saint, you will be reborn in another life, and have to live it over again, and the next, and the next, until you do manage to live a life of perfect purity.”
Boncorro relaxed, disappointed. “There is no profit for me in that. I am a king, and cannot live a life of purity, for we who rule must ever make the hard choice between the lesser of two evils. Besides, I wish to make my life one of pleasure and joy, not one of suffering.”
“And your people’s lives, too?” Matt watched him keenly. Boncorro shrugged. “If their happiness will make my life more pleasurable, yes-and I think it will. The more they prosper, the more tax they can pay, and the more wealthy I will become. The more content they are, the less likely they are to rebel, and the less difficulty I will have keeping this crown on my head.”
So. A materialist, and one devoted to the good of his people, even if his reasons were less than noble. On the other hand, Matt wasn’t all that sure he believed the king was really so self-centered. “What of this third form of Eastern wisdom?” Boncorro demanded. “Alas, Sire! I fear it will interest you even less, for it teaches that everything that exists is only a small part of a greater, single whole-that all the universe is one unified entity, and that human happiness can be gained by working to live in harmony with all the rest of the world about you.”
Boncorro smiled sourly. “If that is so, then even the wolves and lions do not know of that harmony, for they slay and feed on other animals.”
That is a problem,“ Matt admitted, ”though I’m sure the Taoists have an answer for it. Unfortunately, their idea of living in harmony with the rest of the universe involves learning how to eat as little as possible and do without anything but the absolutely essential belongings-even clothes.“